


Drabble Dump

by Airasyraye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Language, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airasyraye/pseuds/Airasyraye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any combination of Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel that I feel like making drabbles about. They range from romantic to angsty to violent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Destiel Drabble 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean/Cas. Rated M for language.

They'd done it. They'd kicked the devil right out of their angel. Castiel was free. Dean and Sam were weak and shaky as newborn lambs, pale and sweaty with the taxing effort of the spell they'd used, angel exorcism one hell of a tough job with an archangel, but they were victorious. True, they had been unable to kill or imprison Lucifer, but that was secondary to Dean right now. What mattered was Cas.

It had taken a disturbing amount of time for Sam to agree.

Cas tilted his head down from where Lucifer had rocked it back as he poured out in a torrent of noise and light, the spell perhaps the only thing that had kept the Winchesters from going up like torches, and blue eyes looked on Dean.

Eyes that no longer made Dean's stomach twist with the feeling of 'wrong wrong wrong' that had plagued him the few weeks before Lucifer had come come clean to them in an effort to taunt them before he killed them like the prick he was. Instincts he had ignored, refusing accept anything was wrong with the only other constant in his life next to Sam and Baby.

Dean straightened, stepped forward quickly, hauled back, and socked one right across Castiel's cheek. It said too much about the weakened state of him that he no longer felt like punching a marble statue.

Castiel staggered and Dean was on him, grabbing the lapels of his trenchcoat, hauling him up and getting in his face.

"You utter, stupid bastard!"

Castiel had recovered from the punch and now he locked gazes with Dean for all of two seconds before his eyes dropped.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"What have you done, Dean?" Cas said quietly, Dean too upset to even rejoice at the gravelly tone that had returned. "We needed him."

Dean boggled and let him go. "No, Cas, we don't. We need you."

"I cannot help you here," Cas said sullenly. "I am of no use against Amara. Lucifer is the only--"

"Lucifer is a sack of shit," Sam said, surprising them both with the atypical rough language. "What's this about not being of any use?"

"I saw Amara. I attacked her and she...she defeated me with no effort. Despite being weakened by the collective smiting of Heaven, I was no threat to her."

"You attacked her?!" Dean roared, incensed. "I told you to run if you saw her!"

"She ate my sister right in front of me!" Cas snapped back. "Maybe they are all flying, winged dickbags to you, but those are still my siblings!"

Taken aback, Dean manfully ignored the implication. "Cas, she could have killed *you* and I can't have that. No threat? Well neither am I. NO way you didn't hear everything said in the archives."

Castiel nodded and set his jaw mulishly. "That is magic. That is not your fault. I am an angel, I should be of some help."

"You are of help, Cas," Sam said gently. "Always have been. We wouldn't be here a dozen times over if it weren't for you. So what if you're an angel and weaker than her? We're only human and we still defeat everything and that's becayuse we have each other and we have you."

"And not because you're some useful tool to call to heal up our wounds," Dean said roughly. "God, Cas, did you really think that? That all I care about is what use you are? That'd I'd be okay with you giving yourself to the fucking devil?"

"Dean..."

"No. No, no, shut up. No more pretending you get to justify sacrificing yourself and leaving me!" Dean yelled, utterly aware that was his own trademark. "We'll find a way to kill or lock away the Darkness and we'll kill or lock away Lucifer, and we'll kill or lock away any other stupid evil son of a bitch who comes next, okay? We will. But I can't do it without you and Sam. And don't you ever dare stand there and say you're more use dead or possessed than you are exactly as you are right now."

Castiel stared at him some more. Dean licked his lips.

"Cas, Lucifer could have killed you. I spent weeks thinking something was off and thinking you were just as stressed out as the rest of us and it turns out that was weeks you could have been dead while Lucifer parades around doing whatever shit he wants. He could have killed Sam. Or me. Because you don't seem to realize how much you are to me--us."

He quickly amended the statement, then plowed on anyway because Sam, damn him, was just watching, and Cas, double damn him, was looking unconvinced. "Don't you remember there in the crypt, you asshole? We need you. I...I need you."

"And I was going to be of service--"

"You fucking, thick-skulled, stupid--" Dean stomped forward and grabbed the trench again, hauling the angel up on his toes. "Not as a tool or a weapon or a ride for someone else! You, Cas. I love *you*!"

Blue eyes widened. So did green. He'd meant "need".

Hadn't he?

A second frozen for eternity and then he repeated the statement roughly before lunging forward and kissing the stupid angel right on his stupid mouth. Another on Cas' part and then he was kissing back, deep and hungry, wrapping his arms around Dean and trapping his between their chests. They stayed like that until Dean had to breathe and then they just stared.

Now what?

Now what was Sam laughing like a jackal, startling both man and angel and making them turn toward him with matching blazing red cheeks.

"Finally!" Sam crowed. "You two are both idiots. About time."

And he headed out of the room, shaking his head while his companions gaped at him and then at each other.

So yeah. Now what?


	2. Sabriel Drabble 1--Nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel teases Sam. Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Cas. Rated T.

Sabriel Drabble

"Honey, I'm home!" Gabriel called loudly.

Sam sighed as Dean shot him a smirk. Dean loved to tease him about Gabriel's insistence on TV-inspired nicknames and tropes. Sam gave him a bitchface as Gabriel sauntered down the stairs with Castiel right behind him. The pair had just returned from Heaven.

"I'm 6'4", 210lbs, and *male*," Sam grumbled. "'Honey' is a bit much."

"'Honey' is also unisex," Gabriel said with a grin, pressing against the back of his chair, sliding his hands down Sam's arms and kissing him upside down as he tilted his head back.

"Get a room," Dean complained automatically.

"Please, Deano, like I don't walk around here and catch you with your tongue down Cassy's throat in every room."

As Castiel blushed slightly, Dean shrugged. "Not my fault you walk around sticking your nose into everything. Should put a bell on you."

Gabriel snapped his fingers and a black collar with a silver sleighbell appeared around his neck. He tinkled it with his fingers and smirked.

"Kinky." He leaned into Sam and stage-whispered, "Will you tie me up if I misbehave?"

"That's inappropriate behavior in a group," Castiel said as Sam covered his face with his hands and Dean groaned theatrically.

"Pagan hedonist," Gabriel said sweetly, not letting Sam go.

"Archangel," Castiel responded.

Gabriel laughed. "Yeah, we're just so pure. Super sensitive hearing, bro. Whatever innocence you still had, Dean's definitely corrupted it."

"Really, Gabriel?" Sam complained, slapping his hands down on the table while Dean and Castiel gave twin glares of embarrassment.

"Sorry," Gabriel murmured. His fingers snapped. In front of Dean appeared a warm apple pie and in front of Castiel a mug of rich hot chocolate with whipped cream, cinnamon, and a cherry.

Since he'd returned, Gabriel had taught his little brother how to bypass the whole "molecules" thing and enjoy the myriad tastes of human cooking. Gabriel, since being outed as an angel rather than a trickster god, didn't bother eating much anymore, but both angels now had a taste for sugar.

"Apology gifts?" Castiel asked while Dean made a pleased noise and grabbed up the fork that had appeared with the pie.

"He thinks he can buy us off with treats," Dean said as he took a huge bite. "I guess he's right."

Gabriel grinned. He and Dean had actually come out on good terms as they were a lot alike in personality and both Sam and Gabriel had equal understanding in ducking out on destinies and being expected to follow in their families' footsteps.

"Yes, I suppose he is," Castiel agreed as he picked up his mug. They all pretended that, despite his rebellious nature and equal likelihood of calling Gabriel on his mischief, Castiel wasn't just simply thrilled to have a brother and fellow angel around.

He took a big drink of his hot chocolate and Dean snickered at the cinnamon-dusted whipped cream mustache that appeared. He leaned forward and swiped it off Castiel's upper lip before sticking his finger in his mouth.

"Get a room!" Gabriel crowed.

"What about me?" Sam asked and immediately regretted.

"You get your treat tonight, Sammykins." Gabriel wriggled his eyebrows.

Sam sighed loudly and stood, making Gabriel step back. "Not a better nickname."

"Poodle?"

"I vote for that one!" Dean yelled as he and Castiel came up for air.

"Gabriel..."

"Sweetie? Sugarpie? Munchkin?"

"You're the munchkin," Sam retorted as he tried to escape to his room. With Dean and even Castiel chuckling behind them, Gabriel, of course, followed behind.

"Hey, Moose, this was the perfect height in 512AD when I took this vessel over. Almost towering, in fact."

"Crowley calls me Moose," Sam said with a scowl. "You call me that in bed and we are never having sex again. How about just 'Sam'?"

Gabriel snorted. "Boring. Hm. Babycakes? Cuddlebear?"

"Instead of a bell, why couldn't Dean have asked for a muzzle?"

Gabriel pouted. It was a show and Sam knew it. Gabriel loved to push buttons and test limits. His apology was sincere for annoying Dean and Castiel, but his hurt feelings were a crock.

"Gumdrop? Muffin?"

"Maybe what you are, aside from being on my last nerve, is hungry. Go steal some of Dean's pie."

"Tempting, but I value my second life." Gabriel bounced onto the edge of the bed and grinned. "How about cuddlebug? Pumpkin? Marshmallow--"

Sam strode forward, lifted Gabriel right off the bed with his hands under his armpits, and kissed him long and hard with Gabriel's feet dangling off the floor. When he finally let go, Gabriel whistled.

"Now what do you have to say?" Sam asked.

"Mmm...A-don-is," Gabriel said dazedly.

Sam smirked and dropped Gabriel unceremoniously on the bed. "Well, just consider this. Every nickname you give me equals a return nickname for you, little bit."

Gabriel huffed indignantly. "You humans grow a few more inches on average and suddenly you're all height-ists. Snookums, my real form could squash this entire bunker under a heel."

Sam straightened some lore books on his night stand. "Well, I guess it's a true that good things come in small packages, peanut."

"Such disrespect! I am an archangel and a pagan god!"

"Welcome to the 21st century, half-pint." Sam busied himself putting away laundry he'd neglected all week.

"I didn't call you anything that time!"

"Lots to make up for."

"Dean gets to call you nicknames! Crowley, too."

"Because I can't stop them."

Sam didn't have to look to know there was a mischievous gleam in Gabriel's eyes. He crooned, "What makes you think you can stop *me*, dumpling?"

Sam turned around, grabbed the collar of Gabriel's shirt as the ridiculous cat collar had long since faded away, and brought their faces to inches apart. "Maybe I can redirect you."

An hour later, Sam had successfully distracted Gabriel from his ludicrous quest.

"Mmmm... now that was something, hot stuff."

Or maybe not.


	3. Destiel Drabble 2--A Kiss in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild internalized homophobia. Mild emotional angst. Dean/Cas. Rated T.

A Kiss in the Dark

Dean was not the poster boy for being comfortable with one's own self. Dean had confidence in his fighting skills, in his mechanical prowess, in his looks, but as a person? What was okay to think and how to act and what he could like? Not so much.

Truth be told, everything he'd ever believed in had been turned on its head one way or another since he'd gone to grab Sam at Stanford. His dad was willing to sacrifice family for revenge, his brother had tiptoed the line of evil and destroyed the world, angels were real and not likely to spare the innocent, he'd gone to Hell, Heaven, and the future and realized he could be a monster himself in the right circumstances, and now he'd been questioning his very existence for a long time.

And hiding it from Sammy, of course.

His little brother was currently soulless, and what the Hell was Dean supposed to do with that? Sammy wasn't Sammy anymore.

And Cas... Well, Hell, his angel was also a loss. Castiel was special, there was no doubt about that. He'd occasionally backslid, but he had come through for them. Too late, but that wasn't his fault. He'd fought everything he knew and was to save two humans from their destiny to destroy the world. Dean owed him everything. 

And yet, there was tension there. Something was wrong. Cas was quiet, withdrawn. Dean wondered if it had to do with the fact that in the end, he'd died and Sam had taken the devil down to Hell. Where he still was. Cas was back, to his own surprise, and Dean was alone. Sam's body, his mind, might be here, but what made his little brother his brother was still suffering in the Pit. 

Dean wondered if Castiel's reticence was guilt.

He knew there was a war going on in Heaven, too. Raphael, the last Archangel, was trying to take charge and restart the Apocalypse while apparently Castiel was trying to stop it. Cas had a lot on his plate and Dean was being selfish looking for help, but he was lost. 

This was his brother. 

So he knew Cas was searching for a way to get Sam's soul. The problem was, where was it? Did Lucifer still have it? How had Sam's body been retrieved but his soul yanked out and left behind? Dean hadn't even realized that was possible. He thought a soul could only be removed from the flesh via death. 

No, the problem was, what state would it be in? That weighed on Dean's mind. Given Hell time versus Earth time, if Sam's soul was still in the cage, then two pissed off archangels had had his brother for over a century. Almost two. It made his own Hell tour look pathetic by comparison. Alistair had carved Dean to shreds daily for thirty years. What would two archangels do for almost two hundred? Sam probably didn't get the dark release of becoming the monster.

"I should never have kept my promise, Sammy," Dean said miserably aloud. "Should have done anything to yank you outta there and damn the consequences." 

"That would likely have led to everyone's sorrow."

Dean jumped and turned. Cas was sitting down on the edge of Bobby's desk. It was just after midnight and Bobby was asleep while Robo-Sam was reading in the room he shared with Dean. Not that they'd be here long. But his brother was so creepy now that Dean couldn't sleep anymore than his soulless brother could and had come downstairs, ready to crash on the couch and instead had been pacing restlessly for three hours.

In the dark, Dean couldn't make out much of Cas, but there was something in the outline of him that spoke of weariness.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said softly.

"Hello, Dean."

"Did you find out anything?"

"About Sam's soul, no." 

Dean nodded, expecting it and yet it still hurt. He sighed and then gestured to the angel. "Well, what's up? Something I can do for you?"

"I was...I wanted to inquire if I may rest here."

Surprised, Dean flicked on the table lamp. It spoke of Cas' inhumanity that he didn't wince and blink like Dean did at the sudden brightness. 

Oh, yeah, weary. Cas looked like he'd been plodding through Death Valley with an anvil on his back. Beaten down. Running on fumes.

"I didn't think angels got tired," Dean said. "Not since God brought you back and gave you more juice."

"I am indeed a Seraph now. But Raphael is an Archangel and the war has been strenuous."

"Cas...you're in trouble, aren't you?"

Castiel was silent for a moment, then said, "Perhaps. But there are many angels would don't want to have the same regime as before. They are resistant to Raphael. There are factions."

"Well, pull up a chair, Cas, take a load off. Bobby won't mind." 

"Thank you." 

Cas stood and settled himself on the couch. Dean didn't mention he'd been planning on sleeping there. He wasn't ready to go to sleep. He probably wasn't going to be for the rest of the night. 

Cas was asleep in a minute. He was on his back, legs out straight, hands folded on his stomach, face upright. He looked like a corpse.

Dean shivered and turned off the light. He stood in place until his night vision had returned. He could hear Cas snoring softly and that was not comforting. An angel asleep and snoring. The last time Cas had looked like this, he'd been drained almost death. Cut off from Heaven and falling because of one stubborn jackass that had the gall to question God's Master Plan.

Dean had no regrets. Just that he hadn't been the one to toss himself into the Pit.

Still.

"Get some rest, buddy," Dean murmured softly. 

From the light of the moon through the picture window, Cas' hair was raven black and his skin milky white. He looked...well, heck, he looked angelic.

Damn, Dean liked this stupid angel. Dragging his feathery butt through the trenches, throwing away everything just because Dean had begged him to. Dean remembered laughing his ass off at the disaster of the cathouse trying to get Cas laid, the horror at seeing the angel broken and human and wallowing in drugs and meaningless sex to fill the void in the future, the affection he felt seeing the angel healthy and whole and awkward again when he'd come back, and the despair when Chuck had stood there and said Raphael had Smited the angel after Cas had whisked Dean out of Zachariah's fancy prison room. He felt a roller coaster of emotions with Cas like he felt with Sam. 

And something more.

Dean clamped down on that. No way. He was not gay and certainly not for some angel. Dean was a ladies' man. 

Okay, so Cas apparently wasn't a guy or a chick. But he was wearing a dude suit so as far as Dean was concerned, Cas was a dude. And Dean Winchester did not do dudes. 

His mind was a lot more sure of that than other parts. 

Shit, he had to own up on it. Not for the first time, Dean Winchester had a bit of a crush where his crushes shouldn't go. He'd once had a thing for a lady vampire when he was 17. She had been smoking hot and he'd asked her out before knowing what she was. Learning later hadn't changed much. He'd considered letting her go until he found her with her fangs in the neck of a dead kid about Sam's age. Taking her head off then had been easy. And if he was honest with himself, he had a fan crush on Dr. Sexy along with most of the female cast. Maybe more than the female cast.

But this was Cas. No way was he crushing on a Angel of the Lord wearing the dead meat suit of some poor bastard from Illinois. 

It had to be some Florence Nightingale thing. Castiel had pulled him from the depths of Hell, revived and healed him, followed him around and fucking talked to him like a person instead of a disobedient dog, and gave him everything. Who wouldn't be a little head over heels? He didn't care about the body, just Cas. 

Still. 

Well, it didn't matter anyway. Cas, male or female, human or other, was out of his league and probably not interested. 

Dean realized he'd been standing there watching Cas sleep for almost 10 minutes. Maybe the angel's penchant for creeping on him wasn't so weird after all.

Shit. He was falling in love with Cas.

Dean shifted, his eyes drifting over Cas' face. It wasn't really his face but it was going to be the only one he saw. 

Cas looked so peaceful. The longer he lay there, the less eerie it looked and the more strained Dean felt. Cas was a hero and one of the best friends Dean had ever had. So Dean had probably better get the poor angel out of his life and stop dragging him into the mud. 

But Dean wasn't sure he could do that.

When had Dean Winchester ever done the smart thing?

He'd stepped closer to Cas without realizing it. Now he was actually leaning over the insensate angel like Prince Charming to Sleeping Beauty.

He kind of wished he could see the look on Cas' face if he'd heard that thought.

He leaned closer, then chickened out and brushed his lips against Cas' forehead. His skin was cool. 

"Sleep well, man." 

Dean made a beeline for the stairs before his treacherous heart could override his brain anymore.


	4. Wincest Drabble 1--Beast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam x Dean: Rated M. Rough, language, shower sex. Top Sam, Bottom Dean.

Dean slammed his hands against the wet tile, his groan echoing in the bathroom. Sam was crowded in behind him, thrusting deep, his teeth marking his brother’s shoulder. Hot water cascaded down around them, but it was nothing to the heat where Sam was moving inside him, or the heat of the big hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him, rubbing over the sensitive head. Dean was gasping for breath in the humid air, forehead now resting against the backs of the fingers splayed against the tile. 

“Sammy. Fuck, Sammy.”

Sam’s sharp teeth nipped their way up Dean’s neck. The hand not stroking Dean’s dick was pressed against his chest, holding him in place while Sam fucked him. Despite his gentle and even deferential demeanor normally, Sam was a beast in bed. He enjoyed using every inch of height and every ounce of weight over Dean. It was all Dean could do to brace himself and take it. And Sam was huge from head to toe. 

“Fuuuck, Sammy. Please, Sam, please.”

Sam laughed low and smoky dark in his ear. Dean moaned, tossing his head back against Sam’s shoulder, knowing that Sam liked it when he pretended to be submissive. They both knew better, but here, Dean would whine and squirm for Sam, reaping the benefits when Sam set out to fuck him silly and keep him coming back for more. It was strange; they became each other in bed. Dean liked slow and sensual, giving a partner as much pleasure as possible before he bothered with himself, at odds with his aggressive, take-everything personality. Sam liked fast and overwhelming, taking time to get a partner warmed up, but otherwise completely dominating and getting both off around the same time. 

Every thrust of Sam was rubbing Dean’s sweet spot until sparks were flying behind his eyelids and he couldn’t seem to get enough air. The calloused palm rubbing the head of his cock was almost too much it was so good and his orgasm was bearing down on him like a freight train. 

Until Sam squeezed the base and derailed it. He laughed again at Dean’s protesting noise. Because that was another thing about Sam. He could be a fucking tease, the bastard.

“Not yet, Dean,” Sam growled. “You’re not coming until I let you.”

Dean whined, trying to thrust his hips even though he knew it would do no good. Sam’s teeth gnawing at the tendon in his neck made him shudder and clench and he heard Sam groan, but his own thrusts had stopped. He was in as deep as he could go, hips flush to Dean’s ass, only moving minutely in a slow grinding that was unraveling Dean fast. 

Dean pounded the tile wall with his fist in frustration, face once again hidden against the other hand, now able to catch his breath and cursing his little brother for the sadistic streak he hid behind those soulful eyes and infectious grin.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Sam murmured, tongue flicking with contradictory delicateness at the lobe of his ear. “Something you want?” 

Dean nodded but refused to open his mouth or look at his tormenting brother. He pounded the wall again when Sam seemed completely unaffected by his silent pleading. He could fucking feel Sam’s grin against his temple.

Suddenly Sam’s grip loosened and he started stroking fast. Dean’s breath whooshed right back out of him, ending in a rather embarrassingly weak cry. It didn’t help when Sam laughed, hips still pressed tight, left hand still keeping Dean in place. 

“Come for me, Dean,” Sam rasped in his ear. “Hard and fast, right now.”

Dean had not much chance of anything else happening. That aborted orgasm came right back on track and in under a minute Sam had what he wanted. Dean cried out against the tile, coming over Sam’s fist and his own belly, the cascading water sluicing it right off. His muscles bore down on Sam and Dean heard him growling in pleasure behind him, nuzzling into his hair. 

Gasping for breath again, Dean’s body wanted to sag, but Sam had different ideas. He waited until the tremors stopped, then suddenly grabbed Dean’s hips in both hands and started pounding into him. Dean howled in surprise, oversensitivity sparking through his body. He braced against the wall and gritted his teeth, now bent at an angle as Sam held him by the hips, moving in full strokes. Dean hung his head, water running through his short hair and over his cheeks, dripping off his nose and forehead. 

He heard Sam chuckle, his own voice breathless now, his tempo increasing speed and losing stride, thrusts short and hard. Dean shoved his hips back even further, cursing Sam’s stamina. He choked on nothing but air when Sam’s hand left his hip and wrapped back around him. 

“Come again for me,” Sam murmured.

“Fuck, Sam, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re going to. Come again, Dean.”

Dean’s body wanted to refuse. He ached and tried to squirm away, body at odds with his brain which wanted to give Sam whatever he wanted. 

“Come on, Dean,” Sam encouraged, voice rough. He was stroking and thrusting relentlessly and Dean could hear the strain. 

Pleasure was overrunning his body’s achy resistance to coming again so soon. Sam knew just how to touch, just how to stroke, to get Dean off. Dean craved it, craved the way Sam could overwhelm him and take him right out of his mind for a few minutes, hack his body like he did a computer and take Dean completely apart. His balls tightened up again and he came suddenly with a wail, hips jumping with the shocks, the contractions more powerful. He vaguely heard Sam groan in relief behind him, coming just seconds after him, pressing against him briefly before he withdrew, propping Dean up as he grayed out. 

Dimly Dean was aware of Sam turning off the water, half-heartedly drying him off, and then bundling him up in his favorite robe before half-carrying, half-walking Dean down to his room. Dean fell into a heap on the bed, grunting as a wave of ache rolled over him. Coming back a little to himself, he got himself comfortable, moving over slightly as Sam got in behind him. He burrowed himself into the pillow, smelling Sam all over the sheets, feeling his brother wrap an arm around him. He was going to be walking funny tomorrow, but it was fucking worth it.


	5. The Death of Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for language and major character death.

The flight was always the worst part of being friends with an angel. The sudden whirling sensation coupled with a sudden jerking stop always had Dean feeling sick to his stomach, but this time he was just plain grateful for Cas’ ability to mojo them right the fuck out of there. Who would have thought demons and angels would team up to take them down? They knew they were outnumbered and it was much better to fucking run for it. Cas knew it, too, so even as the fucker in front was running at them with that angel blade, Cas had grabbed the Winchesters by the shoulders and whirled them away in a powerful sweep of wings.

Dean landed hard on the touchdown, his feet and ankles screaming with the jarring impact and he stumbled. Next to him, Sam grunted with the same force and Dean gasped as he straightened up.

“Man, Cas, hard landing there, bud--”

Turning around as he spoke, the words died in his throat as he saw Cas standing hunch-shouldered and looking down…

At the angel blade protruding from his chest.

“Cas? Cas! No, NO!”

Dean ran forward, grabbing Cas as he started to buckle. Cas looked up at him, looking almost surprised, the blade barely three inches in, but as Cas collapsed against him, it jolted and the light started dispersing around the wound, filling outward from there in slow motion, like a spreading bloodstain.

“CAS. Cas, I gotcha, stay with me, pal.”

“Dean…” Cas reached up and inexplicably tried to push him away. He was frighteningly weak. “Move.”

“Cas, damn it, it’s going to be okay.”

The light reached Cas’ face and his eyes began to glow. His mouth yawned open and he screamed, light bursting through his eyes, his mouth, his skin. Pain lanced through Dean’s own and he screamed himself, then it was over as soon as it started and Dean opened his eyes.

Jimmy Novak’s lifeless body lay slumped in his arms, blue eyes gazing sightlessly up at the stormy sky. Dean shook his head rapidly, reaching up to pat the slack cheek, grab his chin and shake him. 

“No, no. No, Cas, no, God, no. Cas, Cas, come on, no, you can’t.”

Beside him, Sam knelt down. Dean looked up at him wildly, but it was the tears running down Sam’s face that made it all too real. Dean looked back down, his eyes sliding from the empty gaze to the charred print of a massive wing burned into the ground before him. 

“No…” Dean moaned, his voice a thin whine of agony. “Cas…”

Slowly Dean lowered Cas down, Sam reaching forward and slowly closing the eyes that were once never and then only Cas’. Dean got to his feet, then threw his head back and screamed at the sky.

“IS THIS WHAT HE GETS? HE’S THE ANGEL YOU ALWAYS WANTED THEM TO BE, AND THIS IS THE THANKS HE GETS? HUH? ANSWER ME!”

“Dean…” Sam had not moved from his kneeling position and he reached up and touched Dean’s arm. Dean yanked away, looking back down at Cas, suddenly so small when he’d always seemed so large, despite the size of that vessel, laying empty on the cold ground, beneath a silent sky, charred wings staining the dirt. The wind stirred Dean’s short bangs back and rustled the grass. As Dean watched, the ashes of the wings began to blow away.

“NO.” 

Dean scrambled down, grabbing at the ashes, tears filling his eyes and doubling, trebling the breaking apart wing prints. All that was left, and all he would ever see, of the most important angel in the universe was blowing away on the wind.

******

Dean tossed the shovel aside and heaved himself out of the pit. Sam followed suit and they both hoisted up the pathetic wooden box that was to be Castiel’s only coffin, lowering it slowly down.

“Gently, damn it!” Dean snapped at Sam, completely without reason or intent. 

Sam said nothing, the pair of them carefully laying the makeshift coffin into the makeshift grave. They picked up their shovels and started filling it in, both watching the dirt pile up on top of the box, covering up yet another friend gone. 

Sam hadn’t said a single thing to Dean’s insistence on a real burial. He understood, Dean knew he did. Even though Dean didn’t hold the same hope here as Sam had then, he couldn’t bring himself to light a pyre, even if he felt he was denying Cas the honor of a hunter’s funeral. He just couldn’t do it.

Dean stopped as the dirt reached the level of the coffin’s lid and Sam followed suit. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the small silver flask. It had held holy water until Dean had poured it out onto the ground and filled it with ashes, fighting against the chilling wind and determined to gather up as much of the last vestiges of Cas he could. 

Sam had helped without a word.

Now he lay that flask down on the top of the coffin. Straightening, he sniffled heavily and looked down at the silent silver sheen.

“Cas…I’m so damn sorry, buddy. So damn sorry. You deserved…so much better than you got.”

When the grave was filled in, Sam lay down the rock he had picked out from the meadow where they were making their grave, burying Cas under a massive spreading oak, the branches almost reaching to the sky that Cas had once called home. Using a penknife and a ton of patience, he had carved as Dean hammered together the ugly coffin that he’d used Baby’s leftover chassis paint to color in and try to fancy up, and now he lay that stone down at the head.

Castiel  
Angel of the Lord  
Hunter  
Winchester  
?? - November 19, 2013

Dean swallowed hard, standing and staring at the words lovingly carved into the stone. Shallow cuts on a rock, a car-paint-covered box, and a dirt-filled hole tangled in the roots of a tree. Sam put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed and they stayed like that until Dean lost track of time. Finally, Sam squeezed again and let go, taking up both shovels and slowly walking back to the Impala. 

“Deserved so much more, Cas,” Dean whispered. “You saved me. Not just my life, not just my brother, me. My soul. You looked at me heading down to the path of a twisted, messed-up demon and you didn’t flinch. You pulled me out of that pit and you never stopped helping me since. And look what happened. This. God, you should have stayed in Heaven, man. God… man, if I didn’t know how much you’d hate it, I’d curse God right now for what He let happen, and damn the consequences. But I know that’s not right, huh? That’s what you’d tell me. But you can’t, can you? Cas… Castiel, I am so sorry. I love you, man. You’re my brother. And I will never, ever forget you.”

Dean slowly pulled back his sleeve and looked at his arm, at the ruined flesh, at what Cas, knowing what would happen, had tried to prevent. But Dean was glad it had happened. 

Etched into his forearm were the tattoos of charred feathers.

“Never.”


End file.
